We Will Go Home
by Loki's Fenris
Summary: This is the Sequel to Dear Natasha and Here Comes Goodbye. Five years after laying Natasha to Rest and his world still revolves around her. Clint's fate never saw him growing old and dying in his sleep. He always said he would face his end Kicking and Screaming. Some say death is just a door... and on the other side she's waiting for him.


They say time heals all wounds... that the pain will numb. They say you can move on eventually. Looking back, I wish I could find the first person who said those things and just put an arrow in their eye socket.

_**January 26, 2013.**_

That was the day she let go. That was the day I lost the best thing that ever happened to me. You never realize how much a person brings into your life, till they are taken from you. You take everything for granted and then one day, so suddenly, it's all just gone. Death sweeps in and cleans out the spaces and leaves the rooms cold and empty. I never liked the cold much, she knew that better than anyone.

It's been five years since I lost her. My dearest Natasha. I never thought she would go so...quietly. Of course, she did everything quietly. Maybe it shouldn't be so much of a surprise. I still expect to wake up in the middle of the night to find her there. The nest is too empty. I have to pile pillows up on her side of the bed, because rolling over to find nothing is still painful.

I can still see her in our usual routine. I guess it's burned into the surface of my brain - like when you look at something for too long and close your eyes and the image is superimposed on the back of your eyelids.  
I can see her in the mornings, dragging her feet unwilling to wake and still clinging to sleep. She would come into the kitchen to greet me; wearing one of my shirts, her scarlet curls falling in perfect disorder around her face, yawning, and rubbing at her eyes. I used to tease her about how childish she looked in the mornings.  
Before bed she would sit at the table and read or write reports. I never was any good at them.

It's still strange to only make coffee for myself, or sit through briefings without the tap of her toe against my chair. Her chair at the table remains empty, not just at briefings either. When everyone goes for dinner we still have a chair open for her on my right side, and a shot of the best Russian vodka on the table for her. Maybe we aren't letting go... but maybe we don't want to let go.

It hasn't gotten easier. Everywhere I go I find things that reminds me of her. Fury tried to replace her. That's what they are trying to do, fill the empty space she left, both physically and metaphorically. He gave up after a few failed attempts. Steve tried at first... no one else did. After the first though... even he turned a cold shoulder. They just never fit in. None of them found their place. I don't mean just with the team either. I almost put an arrow through one of them because they were in the way. They didn't learn that I have a specific requirement in range of motion. No one will ever fill Natasha's place.

"Uncle Clint?" a small voice made me turn my attention from the window.  
The boy had dark brown hair, a shade or so lighter than Tony's. In fact he looked a lot like Tony. He had Peppers eyes though.  
"What's up Little Man?" I had to turn fully to stop from letting myself drift again.  
He frowned and held up a toy car that was broken.  
I frowned too," Well how are we supposed to play when it's broken?"  
His bottom lip jutted out and trembled, " can you fix it?"  
Damn this kid could break my still fragile heart. I love kids. I had entertained the notion that maybe I would get the chance to be a father at one point. It was a brief fantasy... and it was crushed with the death of my partner... the love of my life.

"Let's see what I can do," I held my hand out and he dropped the pieces into it.  
I lifted the boy up onto my shoulders and we headed off to try and figure out how to fix his car.  
"Uncle Clint..." he draped himself over my head, effectively making it seven times harder to navigate.  
"Yeah?" I had to slow down.  
"Do you miss Aunt Tasha?" he asked softly.  
My chest cramped... my throat tightened a little. I swallowed it down.  
"Yeah buddy... I miss her every day," I murmured softly in turn.  
"Is that who you were thinking about?"  
God he knew how to make me hurt.  
"Yeah..." I said giving his leg a little squeeze.  
"Is she an angel?"  
"Yeah. She keeps us safe, " I lifted the boy off my shoulders and sat him down on the counter.  
"Daddy say's she was scary" he said with boyish innocence.  
I laughed.  
"She used to like scaring your dad a lot," I told him as I looked down at the car in my hands.  
"But she wasn't all scary and mean. She was nice, smart, pretty, and she was good at keeping me out of trouble," I said with a smile.  
"Don't be sad Uncle Clint," the boy smiled, " She's here."

The innocence of a child was both charming... and heartbreaking at the same time.  
"I am glad you are smart like your dad, but talk like your mom," I told him and ruffled his brown hair. It took me a few minutes to fix the toy for him. Finally after a couple tries I managed to get it back together.  
"Thank you!" He flashed a smiled.

Damn it Natasha... we could have started a family. I know we aren't like the others. I'm not sure they understand. They are defence forces... they rise to any threat that appears on the large radar. We were the hunters. We killed and were marked with it. We had bounties on our heads.  
Maybe starting a family would have been dangerous because it was us, but I don't think a kid could have better protection. We are all incredibly protective of Phil. They named him after Coulson. If anyone tried to touch that boy, not only would they have the Avengers to deal with but the entirety of SHIELD. I think we could have done it. She might have had to warm up to the idea... but I think she would have been a good mom. One determined to provide a better life than either of us ever received.

Someone was coming up the lift.  
"Uncle!" Phil cried with sudden excitement.  
I blinked again and looked over at him.  
"Can we spy from the Nest?!" He bounced on the spot.  
I smiled, turned and crouched down, " Hold on tight ok?"  
The boy climbed up onto my back and latched on. I climbed up into the rafters and helped him balance on the wide beam.  
Fury came in the door.

"Shhh," I held my finger to my lips. Phil nodded excitedly.  
Fury stopped not too far off so we moved directly over him.  
"Ready?" I asked.  
The boy nodded excitedly again. I hooked my knees on the rafter and went over backwards. He climbed down, holding onto my belt loops and letting me hold him by the ankles. Then he slowly eased down to dangle upside down with me holding his ankles. He slowly reached out.  
"Clint if you drop that boy..." Fury stated without even turning around.  
"Oh!" I stated in mock surprise, " We have been found! Abort mission!"  
Phil flipped and grabbed my wrists. He hopped onto the table and then scrambled for the floor.  
"Retreat! I will hold him off!" I joked as I flipped down onto my feet.  
The boy sprinted out of the room.  
Fury watched him, "He likes you."  
"He likes all of us," I replied, " What do you need Fury?"

The director turned his attention back to me.  
"Tony will be going with Steve to a meeting. They will be speaking on behalf of the Avengers," He stated.  
I felt my brow furrow deeply.  
"Fury... they aren't trained for undercover stuff," I reminded him.  
"No but you are. They won't be undercover but we want you to accompany Stark. He won't be wearing his armor. Steve will be accompanied by Agent Hill," Fury informed me.  
I nodded reluctantly, "right. Okay."  
"It happens tonight, be ready," Fury crossed his arms over his chest.  
I turned with a nod and made my way to the armory for weapons load out.  
There really wasn't much I had to do to be ready for it. I wouldn't be able to have my bow because I would be on the floor with them. I would have to make due with a pistol as much as I didn't find that appealing.

I spent the rest of my time getting ready. Dressing in my suit. I was tempted to put the kevlar on under but after a moment opted for comfort over safety. I didn't wear it on regular missions and that was ten times more dangerous. So I smoothed out my lapels and took a glance at myself in the mirror. Natasha loved it when I dressed up. A small frown pulled the corners of my mouth down and I ran from that thought to instead leave the room. Tony, Steve and Agent Hill were waiting for me upstairs.

Phil hopped off the table and hurried to hug me tightly about the legs.  
"Hey buddy," I ruffled his hair slightly.  
" Keep daddy safe," he murmured up at me.  
" Not a soul that can keep him safer, Phil," I told him as I leaned down and hugged the boy.  
"Come on Phil... let's go see Bruce," Pepper called her son.  
I waved at the boy and turned to the rest of my company.  
" Let's get a move on before we are late," Tony stated as he moved towards the door. We all fell in behind him.

I can't begin to know the number of parties and balls and gatherings Natasha and I lingered in. We used to play dress up a lot. No matter the character we were playing for the occasion we were always in it together. When I stepped out behind Tony I felt... out of place. It felt strange not to have her on my arm... or see her working the crowd slowly. As much as I prayed to see her... she wasn't there. I don't know why I still expected her to be there like she always was.

I smoothed the lapels of my suit and fell in step with Stark. He was soaking up the attention. He lived for this kind of thing didn't he? I never really enjoyed large crowds, I always felt like I had to protect my back, put myself against a wall or in a corner and keep it that way. I know exactly what kind of people exist in this world, and trust me once you know that... you don't trust anyone who hasn't saved your ass in the field. Even then you're cautious, cause you know just how easy it is to turn on someone, and if you can't trust your self... how can you trust others?

So moving here through the swarming... writhing mass of people, I was uneasy to say the least. What didn't help was that I was on ground level. That meant I couldn't see properly. Everyone was pretty much the same height. I'm frustrated by it. It showed in the way I carried myself. Of course the only person who would have been able to see that was Natasha. She always seen my discomfort.

Through the large majority of the address I felt like secret service. Standing near the podium with my arms crossed behind me. It's hard to scan the crowd. They honestly couldn't have put me up high? It was brutal. Regardless... I stood there watching. What happened next might have been avoided. If they had put me up high... with my bow... I might have been able to take the shot. As it were... I was grounded with my wings clipped.

I almost didn't see it in time. A flash in a window. My mind knew what it was and I was moving before I had even come to full understanding. The only thing I could think of was the boy. He had a son to go home to... I wouldn't let that kid grow up without a father. When I stopped moving and the world was no longer a blur I realized people were scrambling. Security was moving in. At first I felt nothing... but then gradually I could feel the spread of warmth across my skin...below my left pectoral muscle.

The pain didn't hit right away. My brow furrowed slightly and Tony reached out to drag me into cover. Moving wrought sensation all across me, white hot and very real. When I tried to protest it, I only managed to cough. The taste of copper confused me. My hand gripped at the slick spreading of warmth across the side of my suit and Tony appeared in my vision.  
His mouth moved and at first I heard nothing but the ringing in my ears. After a moment I became aware of the screaming and Tony's voice is loud as he tried to get my attention.

"Hold on Cupid," He stated, " Hold on."  
His hand pressed tightly over mine, his palm slicked with blood. I rolled my head back to try and catch my breath. It was too hard to breathe.  
In the distance I could make out someone. A feminine shape. She stood out against the others because she didn't move in the chaos. I knew my eyes were playing tricks on me... but for a moment I was sure it was Natasha. Like I had been drugged, my vision went in and out of focus and soon I was no longer trying to keep her in my line of sight because Tony was drawing my eyes to him again.

I blinked to try and focus as the world tilted violently. There was a bubbling feeling. Hissing between the layer of my soaked shirt and my skin. Air rushing from a half flooded hole. I choked on a small ribbon of blood that rolled from my nose. It streaked over the side of my face to decorate me in my own war paint. Each breath I drew rattled in my lungs and wet up my throat. It was like trying to breathe with someone standing on your chest.

"Clint?" Tony called me. He pulled me up into his lap, when he noticed I was bringing up bubbles of blood with each breath. I think he was hoping to keep me from drowning on it.  
"Clint stay awake buddy," Tony's face was creased with worry.  
I coughed, " Tony... do me a favor huh?"  
I felt the liquid come up my throat and I swallowed it down. A bit escaped over my bottom lip and caressed the curve of my chin and then my throat. It soaked into the collar around my neck.  
"Don't start saying goodbyes yet Barton," Tony shook his head.  
" Burn me on a pyre... burn me with my bow," I managed though it took longer to get out around the laboured ebb and flow of my breathing.  
"What? No Clint, you aren't dying on us," Tony told me with a sour expression on his face.  
" Promise me," I swallowed down more blood... my stomach was starting to feel it too. I was starting to feel sick.

" You can't die Cupid," Start stated.  
I could see the panic flood his features, " Not like this. Not protecting me. I never said it was ok for you to take a fucking bullet for me!"  
He shook. I could feel it, violent tremors that rolled across him. His brown eyes rimmed with fear and regret.  
" It was my job," I tried to smile at him. It's marred by the pink stain on my teeth and the blood that contrasted greatly against my lips.  
" Jesus Clint, shut up!" Tony told me sharply. His hand, pressed to the ever growing wetness on my chest, shook. He was terrified. I was just starting to feel the first hints of fear creep up. I had long ago come to terms with the fact that one day, I was going to die. It doesn't help the scared feeling when it got even harder to breathe.

" Tell Phil I'm sorry I will miss his birthday huh?" I asked as I blinked up at him.  
" Steve is coming," Tony ignored me, " Steve is on his way Clint. Hold on alright. Just breathe for me."  
" Tony," I felt my hand slip from where it had been trying to hold in the blood, " I'm tired..."  
" You can't go to sleep," Tony stated.  
" No … I'm tired," I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. I had swallowed too much blood. It just kept coming... every breath. But God was I tired. I had forced myself through those years without her and I had continued to do what we did best. I didn't get the thrill any more... there was nothing to the hunt that drew my attention. It was dull and monochromatic.  
" There is... a hole in my lung... that's what...that sound is," I managed.  
" Just... Just don't talk," Tony trembled all the more.  
" Sorry Stark... can't just... bandage this one up," I found myself gasping for air, but it just didn't seem like I could get enough.

The world around me... slowly went quiet. I could still hear him yelling at me...I guess I was choosing to ignore him. The movement all around me blurred... and colors dulled.  
_Clint..._  
I felt it... rather than heard it. Like someone jabbing a pointed stick into my cerebral cortex. Where the hell had that come from?  
_Clint? Can you hear me?_  
It exploded across my brain. Like a marble shattering against the pavement. Shrapnel fragments that embedded in the thick of my skull from the inside. A strangled gasp failed to inflate my fluid filled lungs. I coughed violently, spattering Tony and the front of my suit with flecks of red.  
_I'm here._

Natasha. That was Natasha's voice. No wonder it hit me so powerfully. Where was she? She had to be here. My eyes, though heavy and starting to go blurry, searched for her. My Natasha.  
I found that image again...that woman with the halo of fiery hair that fell in lovely waves over her shoulders. Green eyes. So green. She moved towards me and the closer she got the easier it was to make out the soft expression... the gentle fondness in those green eyes.  
"Natasha..."  
It was a breathless sound leaving my parted lips.

" Hey buddy," Tony called out to me and it sounds like he's calling to me through a wall of water.  
I frowned a little and tried to look at him.  
" Who are you calling?" He asked shakily. His hands were smeared with blood and he had wiped his face a few times because there are red smudges against his skin.  
" Tasha," I managed back quietly despite the blood that came up into my mouth.  
" No... Buddy... you know she's not coming. We are going to get you out of here, We will go home. Alright?" he told me firmly. By now Steve had joined us followed shortly by Maria. I felt a little more pressure and the wave that I should have registered as pain. It only made me feel sick. They are all talking at once, but I'm still trying to argue with Tony that Natasha was there. If I had been paying attention to them instead of the beautiful woman with red hair who was standing over them... I might have noticed the way they looked at me. I might have seen Tony glance over his shoulder as if to find what I was looking at.  
" She's right there," I told him. My own voice was so weak in my ears I could barely hear it. I was cold, shaking with it and it was harder and harder to breath.

" She's... right... there," the words broke and cracked from my stained lips. I didn't realize I was gasping like a fish out of water. There just wasn't enough air to inflate my lungs. I was tired, but at the same time I was panicking because I couldn't breathe.  
My eyes widened and I gripped desperately to whoever are nearest. Gasp, choke, gasp, choke. It wasn't working.  
I could no longer feel the hands gripping at me, I didn't feel them lift me from the ground or the wash of the rotors from the chopper. I only stared at her. Natasha. She never left. Hovering so close yet I didn't have the strength within me to lift my hand and touch her face. God I just wanted to touch her face.  
She reached out to me, her hand warm against my cheek as she told me to let go. She told me to sleep... that I would wake feeling better. So as the breath rushed from me, I stopped fighting the drag of sleep. My eyes closed heavily and the world fell into peaceful silence.

I came around to a gentle caress against my face. That was familiar, after taking injuries and passing out... I always woke to the soft brush of cool, pale hands. What wasn't familiar... was the silence. Usually there was the insistent chime of a heart monitor, the alarm to say the IV drip was low. Not this time. I could hear nothing. In any other moment I would have panicked, however my heart rate didn't even spike in my chest.  
I drew an untroubled breath and found the air permeated with her scent. I don't remember the last time I felt this … good. There was no ache, no catch of sore joints or pull of overworked muscles. I could breathe. My God, I could breathe! No obscene hissing gurgle of air escaping through the hole in my chest, no choking and gagging, and no taste of copper in my mouth.

I felt cool, soft fingertips trace gently against my closed eyelids. They trailed over the bridge of my nose, traced the shape of my mouth, and down the center of my throat. I concentrated on breathing for a while. Long, slow draws through my nose. I could feel the soft press of that hand against my chest.  
" Are you going to keep your eyes closed?"  
The voice is soft and amused, and it belongs strictly to his Russian.. I could hear the smile on those words. God it was the sweetest sound I had heard in a very long time and I had to swallow down the swell of emotion in my throat.  
" I'm afraid if I open them the illusion will be ruined," I admitted meekly, " I'm afraid this isn't real."  
I felt the hand on my chest leave to gather up my hand. She pressed my hand against my own chest, trailed the tips of my finger against the edge of the warm... sticky wet bullet hole. My middle and index fingers sank in to the knuckle and I felt my stomach turn uneasily. It should have sent waves of pain across me, made my body jerk. I could feel my heart... if I turned my fingers just so... I could actually feel the throbbing muscle pulsing steadily against my blood slick finger tips. I could feel the air rush past my fingers but it really didn't make sense at all. I felt my brow furrow slightly, confused.  
" Went right through," she told me softly and I could almost see the way her brow creased in the center and she frowned.  
" Huh... well isn't that a nifty trick..." I murmured at her.  
" Are you going to open your eyes and look at me?" She asked as her fingers danced against the back of my hand.

Slowly I opened my eyes, squinting slightly against the brightness of the room which seemed a little odd. She came into focus... just as beautiful as the day that changed my life. She doesn't look like that frail thing that had withered away in that hospital bed. She was strong, filled out with muscle and curves. Her eyes were shining and her hair absolutely vibrant against the white of the walls. Her full lips pulled up slightly.  
"There are my favorite blue eyes," she murmured and the way her lips parted and moved was divine.

I didn't say anything. Wasn't real sure my voice would let me say anything, so instead I just stared up at her. For a brief moment I let my eyes flicker away from her, around the room. Everything was the most pristine white. There were no windows... and no doors. Despite the fact that I could certainly feel the floor under me, I couldn't really see it... everything sort of melted together seamlessly.

I pushed myself upright, there was no strain against it, no light headedness from blood loss.  
Looking down I tugged slightly at the suit jacket, opening one side to look at the massive red stain that spread clear from shoulder to hip... and part way across my middle. The wound was purpled and nasty looking as gunshot wounds often are.  
" Fuck... ruined my suit..." I mumbled hollowly.  
" I suppose we should make you presentable," Natasha stated.  
I watched as her fingers gently pressed against the torn flesh and fabric. I watched in awe as the wound closed itself over, the blood slowly receded from the fabric and the holes in my shirt and jacket patched themselves. I had pretty much come to terms that I was either high on some sort of drug... and they had managed to save me... or I was dead. The latter seemed to best fit my wishes.

" Saving gauze and stitches now?" I asked her in an easy tone.  
" It's much easier this way," she replied with the hint of a laugh edging into her voice.  
She's smiling, and God how I have missed that smile.  
" I see that," I smiled as I reached up and brushed a perfect curl behind her ear, " you been holding out on me. Must have liked sticking those needles in me."  
" You only wish," she closed her green eyes and pressed her face against my hand.  
I took note of the ring she wore. The one I had placed on her finger that day. It made me smile. Sweet release. She leaned forward, pressed her lips against mine and I felt myself come alive. I was whole again.  
" Come on. Coulson's waiting. He wants to know why you weren't kicking and screaming," she chided as she nipped at my earlobe the same way she used to.  
" Take me home Tasha..." I murmured to her.  
" You are home Clint..."


End file.
